Moral Code
by HorsesandVampires
Summary: Michael's hand is forced-and this time there may be no way out. Slight Mike x Fi. Extended Ending posted-so still technically a Oneshot.
1. Chapter 1

_**Ok, so round two for the BN fanfictions—figured I would try again since the response was so awesome to OPF. This one was **__**incredibly**__** hard to write O_O. Even more so than Of Psychopaths and Flirting—so I apologize profusely in advance to the BN creators if Michael seems a little OOC. It takes place somewhere around "Good Intentions" = definitely before big, bad, evil dude gets off the plane.**_

**_**Oh, and let's just pretend that Gilory doesn't know that Michael was the one who killed Strickler--just for kicks, go with me guys** _**

_**Fact of the matter is: This situation that I threw him into is purely meant for fanfiction and would probably never actually happen to him as a character. Not to mention it involves some Mike x Fi, which they themselves stated, "We're not good at this." –You've been warned. So without further-ado, here it is people. Enjoy! **_

_**(And don't forget to **pretend**--trust me it will be worth it)**_

**_Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. All characters and rights belong to Matt Nix and USA etc._**

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_**Michael POV**_

_There will come a time in a spy's life when there are no more options. You have nowhere to run and no one to turn to. Your hand is forced and there is no choice but to give one last try. One last stand._

It was the creak of the stairs that caught my attention. The third step of the stair leading to the loft gives under added pressure. It's subtle and to the normal ear barely noticeable, but it sent my senses on high alert for an approaching figure. It was probably nothing; Sam for a status check or Fi barging in because she could. Not that I was expecting either of them, but in the past two years I had become accustomed to those two appearing out of thin air.

The knock was what threw me off, made the fine hairs stand on the back of my neck. Sam didn't knock, and Fiona… well Fi never let a door come between her and what she wanted.

I grabbed the SIG from the counter and made my way to the door. My steps trained and cautious while I waited for the familiar, "Hey Mikey!" that would prove that Sam was just being overly cordial for once. It never came. Instead I was met with another series of knocks and a soft, "Michael."

_Fi_. My guard lowered a notch as my mind registered the voice, tucking the gun at my back. I opened the door and my eyes widened at the sight.

Fiona stood directly in front of me, Gilroy at her back along with a man I had never seen—both had smiles on their faces. It was Fiona however, that unnerved me and made my blood run cold. The look on her face was one of sheer terror, one that I had only seen once before—years ago in Dublin—and as my eyes traveled along her frame I soon realized why. A large bullet-wound framed her left side, the blood trailing along her torso down to her jeans. Her breathing came in short gasps and if it weren't for Gilroy's hold on her, I didn't think she would be standing.

"Evening Michael," Gilroy started, cheery as ever.

I never took my eyes off Fi, but the expression on my face changed from one of shock and terror to one of sheer hatred. My jaw clenched and I had to force myself not to do anything rash.

"This is for you." He continued, roughly pitching Fiona forward. Even with my reflexes, I barely caught her. My stomach flipped as I felt the warm liquid from her wound seeping through my shirt at an alarming rate.

"Michael, I don't believe you have met Alik," Gilroy nodded to the giant on his left. "He was the one fortunate enough to get rid of Claude for me; naturally I had to bring him along."

The threat registered, but barely. I was too focused on Fi's ragged breathing to give the needed attention to Gilroy, let alone his bodyguard. I pressed a hand to Fi's midsection to try to staunch the blood flow, though I soon realized it would do little good. The jagged edges of the bullet hole clearly indicated an exit wound. The bastard shot her from behind.

I felt the familiar barrel of a M12 pressed into my side as Alik shouldered his way into the loft, effectively backing me into the corner between the stairs and the bed—Fi still clutched to my chest. Gilroy followed, kicking the door closed with his foot, a smirk plastered on his face.

It took all I had not to kill him where he stood.

"I've come across some disturbing information Michael." Gilroy started a leisurely stroll around the loft.

Whatever _information_ he was implying, it did not take a covert operative to know that the odds were not in my favor.

"It has occurred to me that you left out some very important details when we first met," his eyes caught mine and a wolfish grin touched his lips. "Details such as the death of Tom Strickler… Did you know Michael that a certain Thomas O'Neil was charged with his death?" The grin widened as he took in my glare.

"Collateral Damage the police report called it—though it would seem it was anything but." He continued around the loft. "I did some digging and imagine my surprise when I find that none other than Michael Westen himself was the real culprit."

Gilroy stopped at the bed and turned toward me again. "Not that I mind—in all honesty you did me a favor. Having Strickler out of the way has made my dealings so much easier. But I am _curious_."

_Of course he was_.

"You see Westen, you are quite an enigma. A burned spy who, as it seems, would do anything to get his old job back. Yet, he keeps himself busy _helping_ people. The saintly operative with a moral code," he gave a chuckle and I was amazed to feel Fi strain against me, her eyes meeting Gilroy's in a glare.

Gilroy wasn't done.

"Though I will admit you are incredibly good at what you do. I myself was fooled even, but you slipped up Michael." He eyed me pointedly and I knew what was coming. "Your otherwise pristine record was tarnished in the past month. Two bodies," he held up two fingers, "link to you. Though I admit Diego falls more on my shoulders, the incident with Strickler… _that_ my friend was your doing.

Which brings back the curiosity; what could possibly push Michael Westen to break his infamous moral code?" His eyes roamed over to Fi and I felt her stiffen. My grip tightened. "The answer seems quite obvious now." He finished in a soft leer.

I had had enough. The arm that was hidden by Fiona's body slowly went to reach around my back for the SIG. But Fiona met me half way, her arm reaching to stop mine. I felt rather than saw her reach farther around my back, under my suit to where the SIG was tucked in my waistband. Her movement was hidden by my jacket and luckily neither adversary was focused on the barely-breathing woman in my arms.

I wasn't taking the chance though. "Give me one reason Gilroy, why I shouldn't kill you where you stand." My voice was low and threatening in an attempt to keep Gilroy's attention on me.

It worked.

"Oh, but Michael, I believe you are curious too," Gilroy hedged, inching closer to Fiona and I. "Why else would you disguise yourself as a rogue operative? You want to know what I am up to—do you not. What my master plan is? Or perhaps who my good Polish friend is that you were helping escape?"

My eyes widened fractionally in mock disbelief. "Yes Westen, I know all about your little snooping party. In fact, that's how Miss Glenanne came to join us tonight." Gilroy narrowed his eyes at Fi. "Pity it didn't work out." He reached for the gun at his side.

I felt Alik shift behind me and I knew we were almost out of time. "And how exactly was it supposed to work out?" I hedged. I felt Fi's hand grip the SIG and I shifted my weight to give her more leverage.

"Simple really," Gilroy quipped. "Use you to get my friend out of his little predicament. And of course the part where you wind up dead." He took another step forward, gun raised. "Though it looks like that part of the story will stay the same. Shame really, you were such a valuable _asset_."

The moment his trigger finger moved was the moment we acted. Wrenching the SIG from my back, Fi brought the gun to point in a blur of movement. I used the momentum to jam my elbow into Alik's abdomen with enough force to cause the M12 to drop from his grasp. A fist to his temple sent him to the ground as two shots rang out.

I watched Gilroy fall to the floor.

Not two seconds after, Fi started to follow, the SIG clattering to the ground.

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_**Ummmm….yah. So I had some serious trouble ending this—I still can't decide if I want it to be a TwoShot or not. The reason I didn't continue is because it would involve some serious Mike x Fi crisis/fluff and in all honesty these two characters aren't really made for hard-core fluff. What do you guys think?**_

_**Oh, and a couple for the record: **_

_**1) I love Fi's character, so I would never intentionally kill her off…would I?**_

_**2) I know the whole "Fi as leverage" thing is redundant and she is definitely NOT a damsel-in-distress character, but I needed something that would really piss Michael off…this is a Gilroy death fic after all.**_

**_3) This was definitely a fic focusing on what would happen if Gilroy found out what Mike was up to. In my personal opinion he would probably either laugh, shoot Michael, or both...I went for the latter. Unfortunately the whole Strickler thing had to be tweaked in order for Gilroy to find out--it will most likely happen eventually, but I don't know if it will in Season 3--I jumped the gun so to speak :)_**

_*****Reviews would absolutely make my week—not to mention give me some direction to a possible ending?*****_

_**--Thanks for Reading--HV**_


	2. Extended Ending

_**I'm back with another—for the moment :)**_

_**Just for the record: The official decision for Moral Code was to end it the way the original version did. However, since I love you all so much, I decided to give you an extended ending. Once again, I am going to apologize up front if anyone is OOC, but this was incredibly hard to write—again lol. Enjoy!**_

_**Disclaimer: I do not own a thing. All characters and rights belong to Matt Nix and USA Network etc.**_

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_**Fiona POV**_

_Bastard_. I thought with a smile as the two bullets embedded themselves in Gilroy's chest. _It was about time_.

I had gotten tired of Michael's constant tango with the psychopath, and was relieved he was finally dead. Granted, it wasn't exactly how I had pictured it. My version involved more explosives, but the gun would have to do. The idiot didn't even get a shot off, not that I expected him to. No one shot me and got away with it.

My smug smile slipped as I felt the adrenaline start to seep from my being. Without warning my body gave in, the intense fire in my side flaming once again as I glanced down at my blood-stained torso. The sudden drain of energy made me sway, my vision going black. And before I could register it, I was falling to the floor. There was a muffled cry and the impact was stunted as a pair of familiar arms caught me.

_Michael_.

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_**Michael POV**_

_Spies are trained to forget emotion. Emotions are unpredictable and costly to an operation. Isolation of the mind is key—remain void, unattached. But despite the training, we are still human. And there are moments where you disregard everything except the emotion. Because it is someone you love._

"Fi!" My arms stopped her descent. The trained part of me wasn't surprised to find her unconscious—I was amazed she had lasted this long. But the other side of me, the human side, was screaming at me to do something, anything to help her. I ripped off my jacket and pressed it to the wound and speed-dialed Sam.

He picked up on the first ring, "Yah Mike."

"Sam I need you to meet me at the loft now. Bring any medical supplies you can find. Fi's hurt." My voice wavered as my hands worked to stifle the bleeding.

"Mike what…?"

"No time Sam—she's been shot—just get here." With that I hung up and rummaged under the bed with my free hand. I found what I was looking for and pulled the box of supplies out. It wasn't much, just an assortment of bandages for my accumulative injuries, but it would have to do until Sam arrived.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-

She slept through the night and into the morning. Though I wasn't surprised, I'd been shot enough. I allowed myself a small sigh of relief as I watched her chest rise and fall. It had been a long night.

_By the time Sam got to the loft I had the bleeding under control, yet it did little to calm my apprehension. We were past the point of hospitals. We both knew it. Fi had already lost so much blood that the ride to the hospital alone would kill her. We had to do it here, and it had to be fast. Sam had brought everything we would need to perform the makeshift surgery. I was surprised he had gotten there that quickly with the amount of supplies, but he was Sam and he had yet to let me down. We gave each other a knowing look before grabbing what we needed and setting to work._

_The wound was ragged, but a clean shot. We got lucky. Two more inches in and vital organs would have been hit. I remember my mind swaying at the thought. If it had been two more inches, she would be dead. And I would never forgive myself._

_I closed myself off then, forcing my mind to work methodically through the graphing and the stitching. I pretended it was someone else. Just someone who needed saving, like any other client, like always. It was the only thing that got me through._

_I had set Fi down on the bed afterward, and my mind registered how light she was. Even more breakable than before and my stomach clenched as the events of this evening came back; how close I came to losing her._

A pressure on my right arm brought me back to the present. I looked over to find Fiona watching me. Her eyes were still dulled from the ordeal, but there was a flicker of recognition and I knew she would get the spark back in time.

"Michael," her voice was rough and I sushed her and reached from my place on the bed to the glass of water on the bedside table. She took a sip and then returned her eyes to mine.

"You're OK Fi," my response was a whisper as I brought a hand up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face. She closed her eyes and sighed.

"We were so close Michael," she continued, eyes still closed, "too close in my personal opinion. One wrong move and we'd both be dead." I felt her stiffen beside me and I shifted closer, my arm going around her gently.

"But we're not Fi," my voice soft as I laid my head against hers.

"No," she started, wincing slightly as she shifted to face me. "We're not, thanks to me." She smirked and I smiled despite myself. _Typical Fiona_.

"This is the last psycho I am saving you from Michael," her voice attempted a scolding tone. "How many times did Sam and I warn you about the slippery bastard? You push and push until it comes to this and I don't…"

I put my hand over her mouth to stop her. Her breathing was coming in gasps and I didn't want her getting herself worked up, not this soon into recovery. That and I knew I had screwed up. I had screwed up royally, and by some miracle we had made it out alive.

Fiona caught my warning and calmed herself. I removed my hand. "I know Fi," my tone must have revealed more than I intended because she looked at me then. The look in her eyes told me she understood. No matter how much she wanted to kill me for it, she understood. And that was enough for her, for now.

"Never again Fi," I couldn't stop the words, the emotion coming through. I kissed Fiona on the forehead and breathed in the scent of her, trying to calm my inner turmoil. _Never again_. I vowed never to put her through something like this again. Not if I had it in my power to prevent it.

She let out a contented breath and snuggled the best she could into my side. Careful of the IV, I tightened my hold on her and breathed in again. She was here. She was alive. And I wondered how I could have been so blind before to realize: she was all I ever needed.

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_**Eh, I still like the original better—but I don't think this addition is horrible. Thanks for reading guys and I hope this was worth the wait. I am on Spring Break, so hopefully I can pull some more fics out of my head. I have so many post-finale ideas, but for some reason I am having trouble getting them on paper. Figures—I get free time and can't do anything with it lol.**_

_**--HV**_


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